


Broken

by KnightoftheCrow



Category: Bleach
Genre: Heartbreak, KomaSen Week, KomaSen Week 2020, M/M, komasen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightoftheCrow/pseuds/KnightoftheCrow
Summary: After Aizen’s betrayal, Komamura tasks himself with cleaning out Tôsen’s room, something he finds to be much harder than he anticipated.One of the fan works I’m doing for KomaSen Week 2020 for Day Three with the prompt “Broken”.Prompts can be foundhere.
Relationships: Komamura Sajin & Tousen Kaname, Komamura Sajin/Tousen Kaname
Comments: 5
Kudos: 4
Collections: KomaSen Week 2020





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Idk why but [this song](%E2%80%9C) came to mind when I was thinking about writing something for this prompt.

He looked over the empty room, his chest aching with grief. He promised to help pack and store many of his friend’s— _former_ friend, now, he supposed—belongings left in his quarters and office. He moved slowly through the space, large hands trailing over many items; pairs of glasses he picked out, a cookbook he gave as a gift, sandals that are no longer to be worn by the much smaller feet of his companion, left behind to be forgotten. The sheets, the wardrobe, the furniture—it all still smelled like him, as if he never left. He took a deep breath, heaving a great sigh that threatened to break the hold he had over his emotions. He wasn’t sure what to do with all these things; he couldn’t take any of it back. A small part of him wished his friend— _former_ friend—had taken it all with him, but then... then it would be like he had never been there. Holding onto a box of random items, he decided he’d store these ones in his own quarters. He didn’t want to feel like the other could be forgotten so easily. He’d give it all away, every gift he’d given, every item he received, every book and accessory and card, everything, all of it, if it meant he could have his friend— _former_ friend, he couldn’t forget—returned safely. But that could never be. His small box of books, clothes, papers, pillows, and shoes, his memories of long days and warm nights, words shared but unsaid—he’ll treasure it greatly. But... what was to be done with his heart?


End file.
